


Three's a Crowd

by Kithri, themanwhowas



Series: Mixed Signals [2]
Category: Worm - Wildbow
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 09:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11597928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kithri/pseuds/Kithri, https://archiveofourown.org/users/themanwhowas/pseuds/themanwhowas
Summary: While on a date with her new girlfriend, Astrid bumps into an unfamiliar old friend.A mutual crossover betweenMixed FeelingsandCompletely Unoriginal, and a direct sequel to the Mixed Feelings non-canon omakeOne Fine Day.





	Three's a Crowd

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow I got roped in to help themanwhowas deliver on a 500-word promised omake to frustratedFreeboota as reward for his delightfully dark and bittersweet Night omakes in the [Completely Unoriginal](https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/completely-unoriginal-yet-another-cyoa-si-mc-in-brockton-bay.526825/) thread on Spacebattles. I'm not complaining at all, though. It's nice writing happy Astrid for a change, and collaborating with themanwhowas is always a genuine pleasure. Go read his stories!

**Part I: Talos**

Hand in hand, we made our way through the arcade towards our target, anticipation fluttering in my chest. I was really looking forward to this. I glanced over at Denise, intending to remind her once again that I was going to kick her ass seven ways from Sunday, but then I belatedly registered that something was terribly, terribly wrong. Thumping bass, flashing lights… The Dance-O-Tron 9000 was **occupied**.

_Oh, for fuck’s sake!_

I couldn’t help glowering in the direction of the inconsiderate asshole who’d had the sheer, unmitigated gall to be using the machine when I was supposed to be impressing, er, schooling my girlfriend on it.

(I had a girlfriend! Wow!)

I didn’t even care how unreasonable I was being. I was looking forward to this, dammit! And… wait a minute. That was quite a crowd.

“I wonder what’s so interesting,” Denise murmured, trying to peer through the veritable throng of people. I followed her gaze, occasionally catching a glimpse of a raised hand or a flash of shocking pink hair above the heads of the onlookers. And then…

_Was that a foot?_

“Let’s go and get a closer look.”

We threaded our way through the clumps of people with some difficulty. It probably would have been easier if I’d been able to bring myself to let go of Denise’s hand, but… I didn’t. And I couldn’t help noting that she didn’t suggest it either. So, that was a thing. Eventually, though — okay, it wasn’t actually that long —we made it to somewhere near the front. And then we saw…

_Wow._

She was petite and tan, possibly Filipino. A good quarter of her visible skin was covered in tattoos and, thanks to the midriff-baring tank top and neon pink exercise shorts she was barely wearing, that was a lot of skin. **I’d** felt daring with a tee-shirt that didn’t quite reach the waistband of my skinny jeans, but compared to her I might as well have been wearing a nun’s habit. She could move, too. Oh, she could **move** ; her body swirling and bouncing in perfect rhythm with the music as she tapped the footpads with unerring accuracy. And, when the beat allowed, instead of hopping or jumping, she’d actually flip, hitting the pads with slapped palms instead of socked feet. Her bright pink hair — the same colour as her shorts — whirled around her as she moved, almost gleaming in the light, haloing her in a neon cloud.

Denise squeezed my hand, and I distantly realised she’d just said something.

“Huh?” I said, intelligently, tearing my gaze away from the dancer to give her an enquiring look.

“You’re drooling, Astrid,” she murmured, smirking.

“Am not,” I muttered, my face burning with guilt.

Fuck. Some girlfriend I was. Staring at another woman when Denise was right fucking there? How superlatively shitty was that?

To my profound relief, though, rather than getting angry — or, worse, upset — Denise laughed softly and squeezed my hand again.

“It’s fine,” she said, her voice low enough that I had to lean in a little to hear her over the music. “I mean, it’s certainly an impressive… performance.”

The admiration in her voice was unmistakeable, and I felt a shock of… something… that hit me like a punch to the gut.

No. No, I knew what that feeling was. And telling myself firmly that it was not only stupid, but also completely fucking hypocritical of me to be jealous that Denise was **admiring** the dancer, did sweet fuck all to soften the blow. Then again, I’d always preferred actions to words. So I reached up to cup Denise’s face with my other hand, ignoring the performance to focus completely on her as I stepped in close.

“It is,” I said, holding her gaze with mine. “But not as impressive as you.” And, once I was absolutely sure I had her attention, I smirked and said, “Anyway, your legs are way sexier.”

If I’d been half as brave as I longed to be, I would have kissed her then, but there were people all around us, far too many and far too close, and suddenly I was feeling really fucking self-conscious. Still, Denise was smiling back at me when I let my hand drop again, so I dared to hope I hadn’t fucked this up completely.

“Flatterer,” she murmured, poking me lightly in the side. “But I’m not blind.” The sudden, wicked glint in her eye was all the warning I had before she added, “That’s how I know your abs are better than hers.”

“Now who’s the flatterer?” I murmured, blushing.

Sudden applause startled me out of my Denise-induced daze, and I glanced around to see that the song had finished, and the performer was currently taking a bow.

_Perfect score,_ I noted.

I certainly couldn’t argue with the fact that she’d really fucking earned it.

Nor with the fact that she was clearly in great shape. She was breathing a little hard, her skin glistening lightly with sweat, but to look at her you’d never believe she’d just performed a several minutes long strenuous acrobatic routine to music.

Clearly I was going to have to find a way to up my game if I wanted to stand any chance at all of impressing Denise.

_Dammit._

The reigning DOT9K champion beamed as she flipped her hair one last time for her adoring fans and stepped off the machine. To my annoyance, as soon as she relinquished her claim on it, a group of boys immediately took possession. Even more annoyingly, there actually seemed to be quite a queue for the damn thing. I wondered idly how long Lady Neon been tearing it up on there.

“We might as well…” _hit some of the other games while we’re waiting,_ I was going to say. However, before I could finish my sentence, the Dancing Queen’s gaze lit on me, and she stopped dead, her eyes widening.

“Becky!” she exclaimed. “Is that you? Eeeeee!” That last squeal was so high-pitched, I bet it set dogs to barking halfway down the Boardwalk. “It’s me, Jan!”

I froze, reeling inside as ‘Jan’ hop-skip-jumped her way through the dispersing crowd to bounce in place in front of the pair of us.

_Hellfire and fucking damnation!_

There was only one person on this whole goddamn planet who would call me Becky. And that meant…

_I’ve just been admiring fucking_ **_Fax_ ** _._

I bet the asshole was never going to let me live this down.

But I could worry about that later. I shook myself mentally, painfully aware of Denise’s presence at my side as I made myself smile.

“Oh, Jan,” I said awkwardly. “Of course. Hi.” I couldn’t quite keep the edge out of my voice as I asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Becky?” Denise murmured, both amused and curious in that particular way of hers that told me there was no way in hell she was going to just let this go. “Something you want to tell me?”

I quietly resigned myself to the fact that I was going to be interrogated within an inch of my dignity as soon as she got me alone.

“Just a bit of nostalgia,” Fax said, and it took me a moment to realise that was in answer to my question. “They call it something different here, but I used to play a similar arcade game back in college!” I wanted to cringe at his slip. ‘Jan’ didn’t look a day over twenty. I just hoped Denise didn’t pick up on the contradiction. Unfortunately, she was annoyingly observant at times, especially when it was inconvenient for me. “Oh, and I’m, like, so sorry,” Fax continued, almost as an afterthought. “If I knew I was going to run into you I would’ve changed.”

_Oh, goddammit!_

Well, there went that tiny sliver of hope that maybe he hadn’t noticed my reaction to his current form. And outfit.

Fucking empaths.

“That’s okay,” I muttered. My face was made of fire, because of course it fucking was.

I was uncomfortably aware that Denise wasn’t saying anything; just silently watching, no doubt storing away every tiny little detail for the inevitable interrogation.

Before I could muster the words to take our leave, Fax glanced down at our hands, still twined together, and then focused on Denise. His smile widened, and despite my discomfort and general irritation, I found myself touched by the sincere warmth in the expression.

“Hi!” he said to Denise. “I’m Jan.” He gave a cheery, bubbly, completely fucking dorky little wave, and I had to bite back a laugh at the sight of it. If I didn’t already know this was Fax, that wave absolutely would have clinched it. _Idiot,_ I thought, but not without fondness, making a mental note to remind him again about tells when I got the chance. The hair flip, at least, was new. “What’s your name?”

Instead of answering her, er, him, Denise turned to me.

“You’re not going to introduce us?” she asked dryly. She shook her head in mock-disappointment. “So rude.”

To anyone else — well, anyone except a fucking empath — I thought this would have looked like nothing more than a little gentle, good-humoured mockery at my expense. And it was that, but I knew her well enough to spot the flicker of apprehension in her eyes, and I thought I had a pretty good idea of the cause.

“Right, sorry,” I said. I squeezed her hand a little. My throat felt a little dry all of a sudden, and I had to clear it before I could continue. “Jan, this is Denise. My girlfriend.”

I had a fucking girlfriend! How awesome was that? Also kind of really fucking terrifying, but the sudden shivery sensation and the way my pulse sped up was totally worth it when Denise’s answering smile seemed to light up her whole face.

“Nice to meet you, Jan,” she said cheerfully. She raised her eyebrows inquisitively as she focused on Fax. “How do the two of you know each other?”

_Uh oh._

In lieu of answering the question right away, she — he, dammit; this was fucking Fax — let out another one of those deafening squeals. It was more of a high-pitched steam kettle than a human sound.

“So happy for you!”

He was, in fact, practically vibrating with happiness. I might have rolled my eyes at the performance — clearly ‘Jan’ wasn’t just a dancing queen but a drama queen, too — if I couldn’t see the genuine fondness beneath all the hyperbole. Fax really did seem pleased for me. Maybe even a little… proud?

It was surprising how much that meant to me.

“We met when Astrid chased away a mugger a few months back,” he continued, thankfully managing to moderate his volume a little this time. “I was scared half to **death** , ohmigawd.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, hurriedly adopting a hopefully modest expression when Denise turned a speculative glance my way. I gave her a little shrug.

It… wasn’t an implausible cover, I had to admit. Certainly not bad for something he’d come up with on the fly.

Better than some of his other hastily-concocted legends, that was for fucking sure.

“That sounds like my girlfriend,” Denise said, grinning, leaning in a little to faux-whisper, “She’s so brave.”

I wasn’t entirely sure why my cheeks were on fire this time.

“Not really,” I demurred, fervently wishing Fax would stop… jiggling about in place like that. Could the fucker not stand still for a moment? It was really fucking distracting. (Fuck, I hoped Denise didn’t notice me noticing… him.) “So,” I said, striving for a cheerful tone, “are you meeting people here?”

Was he stalking some parahuman or other for power? Or just out having fun?

Knowing Fax, possibly both at once.

“Nah, just killing time,” he said. “Actually, could you hold on a sec?” And with that, she bounced — flounced, really — around the corner of the machine. Maybe she was going to retrieve the rest of her clothes.

Denise rounded on me practically the instant he was out of sight.

“You realise,” she told me firmly, “that I'm going to get the real story out of you as soon as we're alone.”

“What?” I replied, cringing inside at just how guilty I sounded. “I don't know what you mean. It was just-”

“Did you forget just how awful a liar you are?” She smirked wickedly at me then, the expression making my face heat up for whole other reasons. “And how well I know you?”

Frankly, I was proud of myself for just about managing not to splutter. And more than a little embarrassed at how close a call it had been.

“We’ll talk later,” I muttered.

“Yes,” Denise said. “We will.”

It sounded like a promise.

When Fax came back, he was wearing a long, puffy white coat and sneakers covered in… puppies?

_Seriously? Motherfucking puppies? What the fuck, Fax?_

No, actually, more like: what the fuck? Fax. Asked and answered. Moving on.

He was clutching a stupidly tiny purse in one hand, and his hair was more or less tucked into an overstuffed beanie, a few fluorescent locks straggling free to curl around his face.

“Back!” he trilled, completely unnecessarily. “Thanks for waiting!” His smile was even brighter than his hair. “So how did youuuu twooo meeeet?”

He practically sang those last words.

_Definitely a drama queen._

“We met at school,” I answered. It was a plausible cover story, which was why Denise and I had decided on it when the question came up before. I shrugged. “Not that exciting, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Denise murmured, and dread crept over me like a shroud as I saw the way her eyes twinkled mischievously. “It was pretty exciting when you threw me up against a wall the second time you ever met me.” And then to Fax, while I choked, “She’s so forward.”

Fax giggled, because of course he fucking did.

“The second time we met she nearly choked the life out of me,” he confided. “But in a purely platonic way!” And on his face was the platonic fucking ideal of a shit-eating grin. I had a sudden premonition of my doom. “You guys want to get a table?” he asked. “I don’t want to intrude on your date, but it’s been a while and I would love to catch up a bit.”

I found myself oddly conflicted.

On the one hand, it had actually had been a while, and I was kind of curious to see how he was doing, even if we would have to be careful what we said around Denise. On the other… date!

While I dithered, Denise rolled her eyes at me and then flashed a shit-eating grin of her own.

“Personally, I’m fine with grilling Jan for juicy details about my girlfriend’s mysterious double life as a rescuer of fair maidens from foul fiends.”

Fax giggled again. “Oh, I like you,” he told her.

I sighed.

“You’re both assholes,” I muttered, resigned to my fate. “But sure, I’m fine with chatting for a bit. Because I apparently hate myself.”

Denise grinned at me. “That’s the spirit!”

We made our way to the dinky little café-thing that was part of the arcade complex, and Fax and Denise immediately started competing to see who could acquire the unhealthiest snacks and drinks. At least, that was what I assumed they were doing. There certainly were a plethora of possibilities for them to pick from. I searched in vain among the deep-fried this and preservative-stuffed that for something reasonably healthy, in the end having to settle for something that might possibly at some point have been within sniffing distance of an actual piece of fruit. Maybe.

As the two of them spread their so-called ‘bounty’ over the little table we’d claimed, I cast my gaze over it and shook my head, shuddering inwardly.

“What?” they both said, simultaneously, in pretty damn near identical tones of voice, with matching faux-innocent expressions marred by the tiniest hints of sly little fucking smiles. And then they looked at each other and laughed.

Well, Denise laughed. Fax fucking giggled. And I just dropped my head into my hands and groaned aloud.

_What the fuck have I just let myself in for?_

The answer to that turned out to be about a metric fucktonne of embarrassment.

Fax and Denise apparently got on like a fucking house on fire. Which, in hindsight, really shouldn’t have come as any kind of surprise. Same stupid sense of humour, same inability to know when to shut the fuck up, same irritatingly acute powers of observation at the most inconvenient fucking times,

(I resolutely ignored any uncomfortable thoughts to do with the fact that fucking Fax apparently shared a few traits in common with my asshole girlfriend.)

(It didn’t mean a fucking thing. Shut up, brain.)

That proverbial house on fire, however, couldn’t hold a candle to the blazing inferno in my poor cheeks. Because, aside from their shared disdain for foods that weren’t stuffed with enough E-numbers to choke an elephant, something else they had in common was the sheer, unholy, positively maniacal delight they both took in making me blush.

“Aww, that’s so cuuuute!” Fax trilled. The bastard.

“I know, right?” Denise agreed, proving that she was, in fact, as treacherous as she was beautiful.

“Anyway,” I said, glowering at Fax as I tried uselessly to cling to at least some scraps of my dignity, “as I was saying before you so fucking rudely interrupted me, if something’s worth doing, it’s worth putting some actual fucking effort into it.” I should have stopped there, but before I could think better of it, anger made me add, “And some of us don’t have to fucking cheat to be good at Dance-O-Tron-9000, fuck you very much!”

“Cheat?” Denise asked.

_Oh, fuck!_

Thankfully, though, before I could do or say anything to compound my slip, Fax swiftly stepped in.

“I’m a dancer,” he said. “DD, er, I mean DOT is kind of easy mode for me.”

“I see.” Denise gave me a fucking inscrutable look which made my stomach flutter nervously, but then she smiled suddenly, and it was like the sun came out. I… possibly may have smiled somewhat goofily back at her. That was probably why it took me a moment to register the pure wickedness glittering in her eyes before she turned to Fax and said, “So, do you give lessons? Because apparently my girlfriend is quite the expert, and I’d really hate to show her up when she takes me dancing.”

Fax and Denise spending time together?

I could think of no way in which that would end well. Certainly not for me.

And it wasn’t anything to do with the sudden flare of jealousy I felt at the thought of Denise dancing with someone else.

_Fuck._

Well, okay. Maybe it did have a tiny little bit of something to do with that. Maybe.

And maybe that might have had a tiny little bit of something to do with the reason why my hand somehow ended up on Denise’s knee under the table.

I was definitely amused by the way she twitched minutely, her eyes wide and startled-seeming when she turned to look at me.

I’d intended to say something witty, or least a reasonably approximation thereof, but I was struck, again, by the fact that she was my fucking **girlfriend** , and what came out of my mouth instead was, “You could never show me up. You’re perfect just as you are.”

And then she was smiling, and I was smiling, and I might just have thrown caution to the winds and kissed her if it wasn’t for the little, nagging feeling that I was forgetting something…

“Eeeeeeeee!”

We both jumped that time.

_Oh. Right. Fax._

Oh. Fuck. Fax.

Empath.

And then I was blushing again.

  


*****

**Part II: Fax**

Oh my god those two were just adorable.

Unfortunately, between sappy gazes at her girlfriend, poor Astrid was still giving me looks even with the biggest coat I could find. _Maybe I should take off some of my makeup?_

I gave them another dazzling smile. “Sorry ladies, I've got to powder my nose. Be right back!”

“Oh, great idea, I'll join you,” Denise chimed in quickly.

As if on cue, we both looked at Astrid, who was blaring _jealousy-guilt-embarrassment_. “I’m fine,” she said finally. “I’ll hold the table.”

I suppressed a wince. Damnit, I shouldn't have said hello at all once I saw they were on a date. My thoughts were interrupted when, after we had made it all of five feet from the table, Denise mock-whispered “Becky?”

I giggled. “She hates it.”

"Well, of course," Denise said, rolling her eyes. “But is there another reason?”

“It's slang. Nickname for a ‘basic bitch’. Someone who loves Ugg boots and pumpkin spice lattes and top 40 singles.” My grin threatened to split my face in half. “She nearly decked me when I explained.”

Denise raised her eyebrows. “Only nearly? She must like you.”

I shrugged. “I have a certain charm.” And a bunch of superpowers. “Nothing like what she has for you though. I've never seen her so happy.”

Denise seemed to melt a little, a slightly goofy-looking smile spreading across her face as her aura practically glowed with _happiness-contentment_. “Yeah.” And then something like _pain-loss_ spiked briefly through her aura as she added, softly. “She certainly deserves it.”

_You're breaking my heart here, girl._ “Oh yeah, totally. She's been through a lot.”

That said... I stopped just before the entrance to the restroom, fixing her with my best mock-serious glare. “I may not be her big sister but I will find a way to break your legs if you break her heart.”

Denise stopped dead, looking at me with narrowed eyes. And then, abruptly, she grinned. “I see why she likes you.” Her expression sobering, she added, “Trust me. I have no intention of hurting her.”

I watched her for a moment, staring at her aura as much as her face. “Good,” I said with finality. Message delivered. I opened the bathroom door and made a beeline to the sink. “Speaking of segues, I love your hair. Is it natural? Mine's mostly extensions. Takes too long to grow hair like this.” Several hours too long. Thankfully Alex taught me the wonder of hair extensions for disguise. Super convenient.

“I was wondering,” she murmured, giving my hair an admiring glance. “And no, alas, also mostly extensions.” She grimaced. “Had an accident with an open flame a bit ago. Very embarrassing.”

I was proud of myself; I only shuddered a little at the memory of Lung. Hopefully Denise didn't - and then she was giving me a look, _concern-curiosity_. Dammit. _Quick, smile at 100% wattage!_ “I know what you mean. Still, the color is all you, right? Should've known Astrid would have a thing for redheads.”

Thankfully she just let it go. “Yep, all natural, all me.” She leaned in a little, her smile inviting, “And, do tell me more about Astrid's thing for redheads.”

Aw crap, I was just trying to change the topic. Of course she'd ask. Damnit! Did I say “doesn't everybody?” No, she might have thought I was coming onto her. I pulled out my makeup kit and started wiping down my face to cover my thinking. Aww, my mascara was running from the sweat. Oh crap she was still waiting - gah, change the topic again! “Eh, nothing specific. Just a guess. So how long have you two been dating? And I just _have_ to hear the story about her slamming you against the wall.” I paused. “I mean, I believe it, I'm just curious about the context.”

Denise pulled a disappointed face. “Aw, I was hoping you had something juicy I could torment her with. Oh well, I suppose I'll have to make do with what I already have.” She sighed dramatically and joined me at the mirror, touching up her own make-up. “Unfortunately, it's not nearly as salacious as it sounds. I startled her, that's all.” There was a faint echo of _guilt-regret_ , but her expression remained unperturbed.

She met my eyes in the mirror, and added, “So, she tried to choke the life out of you? Tell me more.”

“Heehee. I startled her too.” By dropping her over the city from a mile up, so it was justified, I think. Didn't expect she'd use her powers, though, and she _did_ say she was up for skydiving. “She's come a long way,” I said warmly. I couldn't imagine her having gone out in public with her girlfriend when we first met. Or even admitting she was into girls. Poor thing. “I’m proud of her.”

“Me too,” Denise said softly. “It's taken us a while to get here.” Even more quietly, she added, “I still can't quite believe she actually introduced me as her girlfriend.” And again there was that happy smile.

I couldn't help it.

“Awwwwww!” was all I could say, pitch raising ’til it was nearly hypersonic. I thought I heard dogs barking.

Denise made a show of shaking her head. “I think that went right through my teeth,” she said, amused.

I giggled a bit. It was kinda natural in this body. I just had to hope it wouldn't carry over... It might get me funny looks as Fax. Or Chris. Let's see, makeup removed, threats delivered, no secrets revealed... Good enough. I closed my purse with a snap. “I’m good. You ready? I'm sure poor Becky is tying herself in knots.”

“Yeah, probably,” Denise said, grinning. “Possibly gearing up to come in here and rescue me. Or maybe you.”

“Hee, I wonder which is more likely. Are you secretly a kung fu master? Hiding a gun in that purse?” OK, maybe I was a bit curious. I felt her power, but didn't recognize her. New to the city maybe?

Denise smirked. "I'm a lover, not a fighter."

I giggled again. Dammit, that really was habitual now. “I’m sure Becky is fighter enough for all three of us.” With one last check - Yeap, at least 20% less sexy - I led the way back to the table.

“That she is,” Denise agreed, following me back. Her voice was unmistakably fond.

Astrid was scowling at nothing, the shredded remains of snack wrappers piled neatly in front of her on the tabletop. Her head jerked our way when we got in sight. “You were gone a long time,” a bit accusingly.

“I had burning questions,” Denise drawled. “Like why she keeps calling you Becky.”

Astrid scowled. “Don't even think about it,” she warned Denise, who smiled innocently.

“I wouldn't do something like that! Would I, Princess?”

My god, that shit-eating grin. And yet, Astrid was flustered enough to simply sputter rather than object.

As we slipped back into the seats, I gave them my own shit-eating grin, leaning on my elbows. “D’aww, now I _know_ she likes you. She almost punched me when _I_ called her that.”

“You let someone else call you Princess?” Denise said, her eyes wide and her one hand clutched to her chest. “I thought I was special.”

"You know you are," Astrid said crossly. And then they both kind of looked at each other, smiling somewhat goofily.

Wow, they had it bad.

That said...

Did Astrid know?

“Actually, Denise, do you mind if I speak with Becky in private for a bit?” At her brief concerned look at Astrid, I added “Don't worry, we won't... ok yeah we're totally gonna talk about you.”

Astrid just gave me a look, _annoyed-curious-concerned_. At least she wasn't going pink on me anymore.

“Well, I suppose I could go hit the arcade for a bit,” Denise said, getting to her feet. She gave Astrid a sly look. “Even though, unlike some people, it's not like I really need to practice.”

Astrid twitched a little at that. “See if you're so cocky when I kick your ass at Dance-O-Tron,” she retorted, grinning.

“We'll see,” Denise said, and sashayed off into the arcade. Astrid fairly unsubtly watched her leave.

I, on the other hand, was watching Astrid, and her emotions. “You two seem really happy together,” I said, the fondness and warmth I felt clear in my tone. Her attention turned back to me, and I could see the worry and concern come back in full force as I chose my words. “It's just... Well, my radar is never wrong, and I know it's not my place to tell someone else's secrets, and... I just care about you and want you to be happy. There's something I think you should know about Denise. If... Well, if you didn't know already.”

Astrid went from being relaxed and happy to being tense and wary, with a strong spike of _protectiveness-alarm_ in her aura. She studied me-as-Jan, watching my face intently.

“I just want to be sure you know, you know?”

“Oh?” she asked cautiously.

Damnit, I really hoped I didn't fuck this up for them.

I leaned in, voice lowering to a whisper. “She's... she's a parahuman. I'm sorry, I hope I haven't just messed everything up I just…”

I trailed off as I noticed the flood of _relief-happiness_ in her aura, and she quickly said, “I know.”

“Ohthankgawd.” I leaned back, thoroughly relieved. “I’m sorry, I know it's none of my business but I just... Yeah, OK. I'm glad you knew.” I beamed. Message delivered, fear unfounded, mission accomplished. “I don't want to be a third wheel. Go kick her ass at DDR, OK?” She gave me a bit of a funny look, but... oh! Right. Dance-o-tron. Whatever. She got the idea.

“Thanks... Jan.” She nodded her farewell, and I turned to leave, but had a thought...

“Oh, and one more thing. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you, but I know how insecure you can get sometimes. So... From an empath? She loves you too.”

Astrid smiled back, her expression and her aura matching in _happiness-fondness-love_.

“I know.”


End file.
